


Tea Is At Four

by AshynnaStarlight



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Reunion, happiness, shire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3614853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshynnaStarlight/pseuds/AshynnaStarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it him? No, I had watched him die. It has to be a hallucination....he felt so real though. Could it really be him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea Is At Four

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the weird font, but the rich text button doesn't work. I'll try again later to fix it.
> 
> Edited 27/03/2015 - Switched to FireFox and there the rich text is working! Yeey.

So innocent. Untainted by the evil of this world, their innocent pristine. They had been my salvation. I’d have faded away long ago if not for them. My heart squeezed as I looked at my son. He looked so much like _him_. My throat tightened as I swallowed away my tears. They had just fallen asleep. They needed their sleep and not a mother who couldn’t hold it together.

          As silent as a ghost, I slipped out of their bedrooms – closing the door behind me. The silence in the smial was deafening. Bilbo had to go to the Took-side of his family for a wedding, leaving me alone with the children.

          My fingers tightened around the pendant of my necklace, my chest burning in pain and longing. Too quiet. I moved around, easily able to imagine them all here; loud, obnoxious, and so _alive_.

          Bifur would sit there, making toys. Dori would be fussing over Ori while Bofur and Nori would be teasing them.

          Fíli and Kíli would be up to some kind of mischief, Dwaling watching them wary. Bombur would be eating leftovers or cooking a meal while Oin and Gloin would go over the finances.

          _He_ would sit by the fireplace, smoking his pipe – with his disgustingly cheap pipeweed – while discussing the journey ahead with Balin.

          The wound in my chest ached, still raw and barely healed. I missed his voice, the deep baritone rumbling. I missed the intense look in his eyes; first with suspicious and annoyance, which later became adoration, but in the last moments of his life he had looked at me with regret and guilt. He had begged for forgiveness for his actions on the rampart. Then the bastard had the audacity to die.

          I missed him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t what we had dreamed about. I shoved the memories and feelings back in the deeply buried vault where it belonged.

          The sudden knock on the door startled me. Who could it be? Bilbo wouldn’t be back for another two or three days.

          My body locked when I saw who stood before my door. Seven Gods, when would this torture stop? I knew I had gone mad. Only mad people would see what I saw.

          “I heard tea was at four. He had said don’t bother knocking, but I didn’t know if that meant for me as well.”

          “You need to learn how to read the time better. It’s noon,” I snapped ill-tempered at the hallucination. It looked surprised and confused at me. I sighed as I turned on my heels. “Come in. I was making tea anyways. But make sure you clean your shoes properly. I mopped the floor this morning.” I was mad, talking to that hallucination. He would be gone soon enough, so why not indulged myself?

          The hairs on the back of my neck stood upright, as if he really followed me into the smial. His presence felt stronger than normal. I knew the moment I’d stop hallucinating, I would hurt so much. I only felt truly alive in these small moments of madness.

          “Where is Bilbo?” My hands tightened around the kettle. I had missed that voice so much. It sounded so real.

          “He had to attend a wedding from the Took side of his family, across the Water.” I poured tea in two cups, placing cookies on the table. My hands trembled lightly as his eyes were on me.

          A frown appeared on my face as I slowly looked up, meeting his intense gaze. He had a scar on his right temple. He didn’t have that in my previous hallucinations. He looked different; his hair and beard longer. The clothes he wore weren’t the same. They appeared newer, no visible armour and the fur on his coat was black, not grey.

          My fingers tightened around the back of a chair as I looked at him, worry and sorrow colouring his steel-grey eyes dark.

          “You never stay this long.” My voice cracked as I had difficulty breathing. This was a hallucination. He had died in in my arms. He had _died_.

          Realisation crossed his face, undiluted pain in his eyes as he carefully stepped closer, holding out his hand. “I’m real, amrâlimê. I’m alive.”

          My hands trembled, reaching for him. Had I truly and completely lost my mind? Would the Gods be so twisted?

          His hands took mine carefully, feeling so _warm_ and _real_. My eyesight blurred as my fingers held his hands tight. My heart raged in my chest as I stared at him.

          “You’re real?” My voice mirrored the fragility I felt, the desperate hope. He cupped my cheek, resting his forehead against mine. I inhaled his scent; wood, stone, and earth. I could feel his heat, his energy radiating off him.

          The dam broke, and I crumpled against him as his arms came around me, strong and steady. He held me tightly, face buried in my neck. He trembled, stroking my hair and whispering things in Khuzdul and Westron.

          He kept reassuring me that he was real, apologising for taking so long, and hurting me. I pulled back, and his hand brushed away my tears, his own eyes shiny with wetness.

          “W-welcome home.” He smiled at me, and I felt life returning in my body. The pain that had hollowed me ebbing away.

          “And I’ll never leave you again.”


End file.
